You began writing songs in your 40s – a moment when many stories are already well underway. What happened and why now? 
I’ve been a storyteller my whole professional life, and over the years, I’ve had small bands with whom I’ve performed. But it was only recently that melodies started pouring into my life, almost as if they’d been waiting for their turn. Writing my stories into songs felt the most natural thing to me.  

Your music is unapologetically sensual, playful, and emotionally sincere. What does sensuality mean to you – and why is it important to keep the body in the story?
To me, sensuality plays out in almost everything in life: the way I read my children their bedtime story, the way I sweep up my hair with a hair claw, and me dancing in the dark just for my pleasure. Making music has brought me back into my body, because music is experienced first and foremost through our bodies – emotionally and somatically – and not through the rational mind. I’ve always been very physical, intuitive, and primal. 

You’re a professional writer. What new things has making music brought into your life?
So many interesting, talented, and sweet musicians I’ve loved working with! Being inside music feels like being a child again – existing through play and joy.   

If your music was a film, what would it be: late-night romance, arthouse, a heartfelt family film, Japanese animation or something nobody quite understands but can’t stop watching? 
It would definitely be a slightly off-kilter romantic comedy – emotionally open, with a cast of random anti-hero characters with soft hearts, wrapped in gorgeous vintage aesthetics.